


Maybe I Want You To

by woakiees



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Little bit of blood, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woakiees/pseuds/woakiees
Summary: "Every single night, he would enter your quarters with a smirk on his face, grabbing the hem of his bed shirt and lifting it off before flinging it behind him, not really caring where it landed. He would crawl into bed with you, and hold you. Talk to you, and tell you stories. Sleep and then wake up, only for you to treat him as if he didn’t exist until the next night."
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72





	Maybe I Want You To

It had become a routine, really. The late night whispers about nothing and everything all at once. The soft, gentle caress of a hand on your cheek, on your waist, on your back, _everywhere_. The relief often mixed with guilt that came with finally letting yourself succumb to the feeling of him after a day of avoidance. The heat on the other side of the bed where there had once only been cold. A body — _his_ body, and no one else’s — lying beside you, perfectly asleep while you spent the night maddeningly awake, finding solace in his ability to rest even through your exhaustion.

It had been this way for months now. Keep yourself and your desires away by day, but let yourself indulge in him when the sun fell below the horizon, when the sadness threatened to swallow you whole. Push him away one minute, but beg him to stay the next, when you realized that you couldn’t face the night alone. Confuse him, repeatedly. Drive him crazy.

If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were leading him on. Using him. Giving him just enough of a fix to keep him hooked and coming back, but never enough to keep him completely satisfied.

But Poe Dameron had always prided himself on his ability to effectively read people, and you were, thankfully, no exception to his talent.

You weren’t using him, you needed him.

You wanted him, _all_ of the time, but you wouldn’t let yourself have him. You were scared. Of what, he didn’t know, but all it took was a single look into your eyes, eyes that never failed to make his knees grow weak in the best possible way, and he knew that you were terrified, and hurting. And yet, you always insisted that you were fine. Your words always said one thing, but your eyes always told your truth. Maybe it was because you completely lacked the ability to lie to him, or maybe it was because you were hoping that he would be the one to see through them.

And he did. He always had, though he often tried to remain oblivious, because he knew or rather thought that was what you ultimately wanted of him. And not only that, but Poe wanted you to come to him on that of your own free will, and never because you felt forced. He never wanted to make you feel as if he were forcing you into telling him anything you didn’t want to.

But even so, and even though he knew it wasn’t his place, he often found himself pushing.

Pushing for you to tell him the truth he saw in your eyes but never heard in your voice. Pushing for you to tell him that you wanted him all of the time, and not just at night, when the base was quiet and the only sounds were your thoughts running rampant through your head. For you to tell him what you were actually feeling, instead of trying to hide it. He wanted you to stop avoiding your feelings and to stop avoiding him. You were his girl. His number one in all things. He just wanted you to be honest with him.

And while he would continue to push, he knew he couldn’t force it. He didn’t have any right to even try to. As much as the thought often pained him, you weren’t really his.

But _Gods_ , was he yours. He had been completely and utterly wrapped around your finger from the first time he laid eyes on you. If you wanted to use him, he would let you. If you wanted to spend your day avoiding him, only to beckon him to your bed once darkness fell, he would let you, and he would come running each and every time. If you were to decide one day to never speak to him again, he would learn to live with it.

It would hurt like hell, he was sure. But if it was truly what you wanted, then he would make himself become okay with it.

And you noticed that, that he would do anything for you, and you never abused that knowledge.

Or at least, you never tried to.

You knew you were hurting him, though. Poe was easy to read himself, practically wearing his heart on his sleeve in all things he ever did. _His_ eyes spoke _his_ truth.

Every single night, he would enter your quarters with a smirk on his face, grabbing the hem of his bed shirt and lifting it off before flinging it behind him, not really caring where it landed. He would crawl into bed with you, and hold you. Talk to you, and tell you stories. Sleep and then wake up, only for you to treat him as if he didn’t exist until the next night.

And he always pretended to be fine with it. Always.

But it wasn’t fair to him, not at all.

The guilt was eating you alive. You could no longer enjoy your nights with him, or the feel of his hands on your skin. His thumb was currently rubbing what were supposed to be soothing, comforting circles on your hip, but his touch _burned_ , and not in the usual way.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, shaking your head gently from side to side as you quickly found your voice.

“Stop.”

It only came out as a quiet mumble, not nearly as loud or as assertive as you had wanted it to be, but Poe still heard, and his thumb immediately stopped moving.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

You gently wiggled your body away from him before sitting up, Poe following suit just after. You ran a shaking hand through messy hair, a deep sigh exhaling itself from your lungs. You closed your eyes and bit your tongue to keep yourself from taking the single word back.

“You need to leave.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you kept yours tightly shut, not trusting yourself to look into his without giving in.

“You don’t really want me to go.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

You removed yourself from the bed, eyes still closed as you swiftly moved yourself over top of Poe until your feet hit the concrete floor. He had tried to grab ahold of you, silently begging you to stay put, but you somehow found the emotional strength to push yourself out of his grasp.

“I’m serious.”

You heard some shuffling, the sound of the covers being thrown off of his body, and then he was suddenly in front of you, only an inch away. His body was warm enough for you to feel the heat radiate from his skin, and you had to push away the urge to wrap your arms around his middle and beg him to hold you.

You felt his hot breath hit the shell of your ear, sending a noticeable shiver down your spine.

“How about you try that again while actually looking at me, huh sweetheart?”

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, and you knew that the sight of it would only make you weaker for him. You shook your head, blindly sticking your hands out to push him away, but his hands quickly wrapped themselves around your wrists, pulling your body to his until your chests were flush against one another.

The air left your lungs, and Poe took your silence as a chance to continue.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I walk into a room, and you run. I try and start a conversation, and you ignore me. Even Leia has noticed it. Why?”

His question was only met with more silence, and another shake of your head. He pressed on.

“I’m tired of you lying to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not-”

“Tired of it.”

“Maybe I’m tired of you being here.”

It was his turn to be at a loss for words, and he physically stumbled backwards, just a step, and his hold on your wrists loosened enough for you to break free.

“You think you know everything, Poe, but you don’t know shit about me or about what I want.”

“Why does the thought of being with me scare you so much?”

Your eyes flew open at that, though you still refused to meet his. You instead found a spot on the wall to focus your attention on, using it as a grounding point to quickly regain your composure.

Your response was still weak.

“I don’t want to be with you.”

“Bullshit. You want-”

“Maybe I want you to leave me alone! I can’t even stand to be around you anymore.”

Poe’s hands were suddenly on both sides of your cheeks, roughly tilting your head up as he ducked his own to be eye level with you. He looked angry, but more hurt than anything.

Hurt because of you. It was your fault.

He deserved so much better. He deserved someone who wasn’t afraid, and someone who didn’t hurt him. Someone who wasn’t a burden, and someone who wasn’t so sad. Someone who wouldn’t keep him from being happy.

Poe’s gaze was intense, and he seemed to be searching your eyes for some form of reluctance or regret. Anything he could use against you.

And of course, he found it. He knew he would. You were stubborn, but you couldn’t hide from him that well.

But he was just as stubborn, and he wouldn’t let you know that he knew you weren’t being sincere in your harsh words. He wanted to see if you would continue your little charade, or if you would finally give into him and your emotions. If you would finally be honest with him and yourself.

You couldn’t.

He deserved so much better.

It didn’t take him long to realize that you wouldn’t be the first to break the silence. He swallowed, willing his voice not to shake as he spoke.

“Tell me you hate me and I’ll leave.”

To his surprise, his request didn’t seem to bother you all that much. You didn’t look at him in horror, and you didn’t immediately reassure him that you in fact did not hate him. Your jaw may have clenched a little bit, but if anything, it made you seem sure of yourself. As if you truly believed the words you were about to throw his way.

“I hate you.”

Your words didn’t waver, and your expression remained unchanged. Poe felt his arms drop, his hands falling away from your face as he immediately straightened, sucking a sharp breath into straining lungs. There was so much confidence in your tone, assurance dripping from your tongue like a venom that made Poe’s blood burn as it moved through his veins, he found himself believing you.

For just a moment, because your damn perfect eyes gave you away again.

But again, he wouldn’t let you know that he knew.

He knew you were lying, but he still couldn’t form a response. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was a lie, but it still stung. Still hurt. Gods, his chest felt so empty.

He finally tore his gaze away from you and looked to his right, wanting to look everywhere but at you in that moment. He felt like he was going to be sick. He still didn’t know what to say to you.

And so, instead, he pushed his way past you, fists clenched as he let his nails break the skin of his palm, a small amount of blood bubbling to the surface that he wouldn’t pay attention to until he was back in his own quarters. He picked his shirt off the ground, and slid it over his body just as you found yourself sliding to the floor.

Poe didn’t look back. If he did, he would’ve caved.

And he also would have seen you pulling your knees to your chest as tears fell down red cheeks, your resolve breaking right before him.

If he had looked back, he would have been able to fix things right then and there. He would have forced you into telling him the truth then, because there wouldn’t have been a way for you to deny it.

But he kept his eyes straight ahead of him as he walked away from you, letting the sound of his footsteps echoing in empty hallways, push him forward. He didn’t even blink until he reached his quarters and fell face first into his mattress. He laid there for a moment, letting his emotions eat at him until he felt as if he would combust at any moment. A strangled cry left his lips, and he found himself punching his pillow repeatedly, curses and swears flying from his mouth with each hit.

And you, you watched him leave — _let_ him leave even though it physically pained you to watch him do so, to hear his footsteps fade away.

You were alone again.

Alone and certainly not hating Poe, but definitely hating yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a part two to this, I don't know. What do you think?


End file.
